


The Play's the Thing

by okapi



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Influenza, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet References, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: When an outbreak cancels the Shire's autumn play, Thorin decides to surprise Bilbo on his birthday with a production ofRomeo and Juliet.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25





	The Play's the Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> For my friend Small Hobbit who enjoys the theatre (and ferrets) very much. Many returns of the day.

**_Dearest Thorin,_ **

**_I was so heartened to receive your letter and read the news that you and the company of dwarves reached the Blue Mountain safely._ **

**_I apologise for the tardiness of my reply. It grieves me to report that the Shire is in a downtrodden state, and our conqueror is the influenza. Hardly a home has been spared by this illness. So far all have recovered, but it has laid many low and some dangerously so. Our infirmary was overwhelmed in the first few days, and it was clear that a larger venue would be required to tend to those who could not be tended in their homes. And so it was decided, and rightly I think, to commandeer our little Globe, the Shire amphitheatre. It serves now as a sort of field hospital._ **

**_Thus, I attend the theatre every day, not to see performances, but to assist in tending the sick. I am still hale and hearty and do all that is recommended to keep myself so._ **

**_As might be expected, the Autumn Festival has been cancelled and with it the Autumn Play, which this year would have fallen on my birthday! And a Hunter’s moon, too! Thank goodness I am too busy to feel the full weight of disappointment._ **

**_I wish you every success in your campaign in the Blue Mountain. I know the community there will benefit greatly from your leadership and your company’s vigour. I only hope that they are equipped with larders large enough to satisfy your appetites!_ **

**_Thinking of you often and wishing you only the best,_ **

**_Bilbo_ **

* * *

“A missive from the Shire usually has you more cheerful than this,” observed Balin.

“A catching sickness has struck the Shire. Bilbo is nursing the ill,” said Thorin, his thoughtful gaze still on the letter in his hand.

“That’s too bad.”

Thorin sighed. “Yes, I think that’s the best decision.”

Balin frowned. “What decision?”

“We’re going to put on a play in the Shire on the Hunter’s Moon night.”

Balin’s eyebrows rose, and his jaw dropped. “A play? Us?”

“We’re a company, aren’t we?”

“Not a _theatrical_ company!” Balin retorted. “Are we supposed to write this play, too, or do you have one in mind?”

Thorin rummaged in his pack. “Here.” He produced a book and began to thumb through the pages. “Maybe this one?” He turned the book to face Balin.

Balin took it and read. “ _Romeo and Juliet_?”

“It’s romantic. It’s about a pair of lovers from feuding families. There’s a lot of fighting, too. It isn’t all, you know,” Thorin made a gesture indicating sentiment, “there’s a funny nurse and maybe a dog?” He scratched his head. “Or a bear? Anyway, Bilbo said he liked it. I’m appointing you director.”

“Right.” Balin stroked his beard. “By the night of the Hunter’s Moon in the Shire?”

“Yes.”

* * *

**_An hour later…_ **

“Thorin?”

“Yes?” said Thorin testily.

Balin held up the book. “Did you read _Romeo and Juliet_?”

“Of course, I did!”

“All of it?”

“Well,” Thorin coughed, “all of the first pages, and then it was a bit of a skim.”

Balin hummed. “I’m not going to agree to do anything until you read the whole thing, to the very last page and the very last word.”

“But I’ve got things to do, Balin!”

Balin shot him a look. “For your burglar’s birthday?”

“Very well,” conceded Thorin and caught the book as it sailed through the air towards him.

* * *

**_An hour later…_ **

“BALIN!”

Balin smiled. “Yes?”

“They die!” exclaimed Thorin with dismay

“Yes.”

Thorin shook his head and thumped the book. “That won’t do. You are re-writing this!”

“What?”

“Re-write the ending, make it happy, cheerful, everything forgiven, you know. And I want at least two song-and-dance numbers. And some battles.”

“Song-and-dance numbers?”

“There’s a ball, isn’t there? And I would replace some of the knives with axes, but, of course, that’s your call. Artistic license.” Thorin made another gesture.

“Oh, I’m glad I have some freedom,” remarked Balin dryly. “By the Hunter’s Moon?”

“By the Hunter’s Moon!”

Balin rolled his eyes and sighed and took the book from Thorin’s hand. “Very well.”

* * *

**_A fortnight later…_ **

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo looked up from rolling bandages and asked, “What?”

“There’s someone here to see you!”

Bilbo’s eyes bulged, and his heart began to pound.

“Thorin!”

No one made an entrance like Thorin Oakenshield. The whole of the amphitheatre stopped and turned its collective head. Even the short of breath forgot their wheezing and stared as the King under the Mountain, in heavy boots and hanging sword and dark cloaks and flowing hair and chiseled countenance, approached Bilbo. As he drew closer, however, Thorin’s stony expression softened, and he smiled.

For Bilbo’s part, it was only the hundreds of eyes watching that kept him from throwing himself into Thorin’s arms.

“Happy birthday, Bilbo.”

“It is now,” chirruped Bilbo.

“I’ve a gift.”

“Your presence is gift enough, Thorin. I’m not entirely certain I’m not dreaming.”

“You aren’t dreaming.” Thorin reached out and squeezed Bilbo’s arms. “I’ve spoken with those in charge,” he nodded at their surroundings, “and they have agreed that my Lonely Mountain Players can perform _Romeo and Juliet_ tonight, here, in the amphitheatre, for all who are ill and all those who provide care for the ill. But know, though an act of charity and an occasion for diversion for a place of late hit so hard by misfortune and illness, the play is first and foremost a birthday gift for you.”

Bilbo’s vision blurred. “These are happy tears,” he sniffed, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing his eyes. “But I didn’t even know you had a theatrical company, Thorin.”

Thorin puffed out his cheeks and shrugged. “Well…”

* * *

**_Later that evening…_ **

“We’re moments from the opening. What’s wrong?” barked Thorin when he saw Balin’s face.

“Oh, nothing. Just a small wardrobe mishap.”

“Really? Nori is in charge of costumes, isn’t he?”

“Yes, it appears that the ermine stole which was part of Lord Montague’s cloak is missing.”

“Ermine?”

“Well, it was the best I could find. It is a ferret, actually,” interjected Nori. “Stole, as it turned out, but not stole, if you catch my meaning. Just sleeping.”

Thorin huffed. “You worry me with trivia. A weasel runs away. The cloak will look fine without it.” He gave a dismissive wave. “I’m going to take my seat beside Bilbo.”

Balin and Nori exchanged a look and shrugged.

* * *

“Is this seat taken?” asked Thorin gallantly.

“No,” said Bilbo, gesturing to the seat, “please.”

Thorin settled in beside Olin as Gloin drew two large screens apart.

Dwalin strode on stage and spread his arms and spoke,

“ _Two households, both alike in dignity_ …”

The screens closed, and the audience clapped. Bilbo was on his feet with the rest who were able to rise, cheering.

* * *

“That was just the first act,” whispered Thorin when Bilbo had taken his seat again.

“I know, but it was so well done, Thorin. I enjoyed every moment. Fili as Romeo. Ori as Juliet. You cast Paris as an actual ham! And then he was a shank of mutton. And a roast.” 

“I think that was Bombur’s idea,” muttered Thorin under his breath.

“Bombur is very good as the nurse, and it was so exciting, extending the fighting for three scenes.”

“And including axes,” interjected Thorin, modestly.

“That was a brilliant choice!”

Thorin beamed.

“And the song!”

“Nori did the music.”

“It was lovely. And the dancing!” continued Bilbo. “I loved the dancing! That puppet is amazing, too, dancing along with everyone, so life-like!”

“Puppet?” asked Thorin.

“The ferret.”

“Oh, yes.”

Balin’s voice sounded from the stage.

“ _Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie_ …”

Biblo set his hand on Thorin’s and squeezed. “I can’t wait!”

Thorin blushed and tried to look dignified.

* * *

Thorin ought to have known disaster was waiting in the wings, but even the King under the Mountain could be forgiven for not suspecting that disaster had a long furry tail.

The second song-and-dance number went off without a hitch, as did the second fight scene, but then, just as Fili was delivering his line, the whole show came unraveled.

“Hark! What light through yonder window breaks? Tis the east and Juliet—”

“EEEK!”

Ori appeared on the balcony, quickly followed by Bombur, in full Nurse costume, in a fierce tug-of-war with the ferret over an enormous turkey leg, which was playing the part of Paris.

“Give it back, you rascal!”

Bombur lost his grip and fell into Ori, who tipped over the balcony, and landed in Fili’s arms.

The audience, from their sickbeds and wheeled chairs, laughed heartily and clapped wildly. So did Bilbo.

Really, it was a sea of smiling, bright faces, so Thorin reconsidered his impulse to stomp backstage and demand what in blazes was going on.

He caught Bilbo’s eye and smiled.

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand and grinned. “You’re wonderful, Thorin.” Then he curled his arm in Thorin’s and snuggled close, giving Thorin a peck on the cheek before he fixed his eyes on the stage. “How ever did you get that animal trained so well? And I thought it was a puppet!”

The ferret was not a puppet. It was, in fact, a slippery, sly, capture-eluding, scene-stealing upstart. It ripped off Lady Capulet’s wig. Gloin responded by shouting and grabbing Tybalt Kili’s axe and trying, and failing, to chop the scurrying animal in half for the remainder of the scene.

The ferret also ran up the leg of Lord Montague’s trousers. Dwalin broke down in a very undignified fit of jumping and shaking, which was followed by a tirade of blue oaths previously unknown in the Shire.

The ferret joined Bofur’s Friar Lawrence in his tap dance number. And in the finale, the last battle scene, the ferret twisted through the whole company, tripping everyone’s feet until the rehearsed melee was a pale spectre compared the true performance. 

Finally, Romeo and Juliet had persuaded their families to end their feud, and the ferret and Bombur had called a truce by ripping a gigantic smoked trout in half.

Balin shot Thorin a look, and Thorin got to his feet with a whispered ‘Excuse me.’

“You’re not leaving?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin shook his head and smiled.

Then Thorin Oakenshield made his entrance, took centre stage, and, with his eyes on Bilbo, fell to one knee and placed his hand over his heart.

**_A merry joy, this evening with it brings;_ **

**_the moon, a Hunter’s, bows its silver ray:_ **

**_be well and bind with smiles at these glad things._ **

**_One shall be hailed on this, his special day:_ **

**_for never was tale told with brighter tiding_ **

**_with greater cheer, or greater love abiding._ **

And with that, applause thundered, and the ferret crawled along Thorin’s cloak and pretended to be an ermine stole.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
